


Flash Flood

by NightValeian



Series: Whumptober 2019 [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Metaphors, Mother-Son Relationship, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), References to Depression, Self-Acceptance, The Fall (Good Omens), Whumptober, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 03:44:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightValeian/pseuds/NightValeian
Summary: Aziraphale Fell on a Sunday afternoon.The rain started shortly after.





	Flash Flood

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again in Whumptober~
> 
> For Prompt: Tear-Stained.

Aziraphale Fell on a Sunday afternoon. 

It had been a rarely beautiful afternoon, not a single cloud to be seen in the typically overcast English sky, and Aziraphale had been making some cocoa in the kitchen while Crowley lounged on the couch in the back room . 

The sound of glass shattering had the demon on his feet in the blink of an eye, and into the kitchen even faster. The angel was staring with wide, tearful eyes at the remains of what was once an angel-wing mug that Crowley himself had gifted him ages ago. 

"Angel? You alright?" 

Aziraphale stood silently, hands clasped over his mouth to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. His shoulders began to shake and tears spilled over, eyes squeezed tightly shut, still not responding to Crowley's question. 

_ Something was different. _

What that something was, Crowley couldn't seem to put his finger on. A glance around the kitchen confirmed that nothing had noticeably changed–the only thing out of place was the broken mug and the angel currently crying over it.

"Come now, angel, 's just a mug. Easily fixed." 

Crowley snapped his fingers to show the angel, and the porcelain shards reassembled themselves back into the mug shape on the counter. He flashed a huge grin at the angel, hoping that it would soothe him of whatever emotions had suddenly come over him. The grin faltered as he noticed that Aziraphale hadn't stopped crying, and in fact, seemed to be crying harder, barely muffled sobs slipping out from behind his shaking hands. 

The demon practically flew across the room to the angel, hands hovering–but not quite touching–near his shoulders uneasily. Aziraphale seemed like the most fragile thing he'd ever seen, fearing touching him would be all it would take to shatter him. The angel let out a pained moan in-between his sobs, nearly choking on his own distress.

"Hey, look at me. Are you hurt? What's–"

He froze, words catching in his throat, strangling his senses when the angel finally met his eyes.

Those eyes, that were usually a soft blue, that rivaled the clearest skies and the calmest oceans. Those  _ eyes _ , that were now a sharp, icy blue, the surrounding sclera transformed completely black. 

No...No... _ No… _

This had to be a dream, a Satan-forsaken dream, maybe even an awful hallucination from Heaven's own twisted Host; there was no  _ way _ this was actually happening. Aziraphale finally allowed himself to sob unrestrained, and Crowley lifted his hands, cupping the angel's face in his palms as gently as possible, wiping away the ever-flowing tears on his cheeks. Aziraphale shakily lifted his hands and wrapped his fingers around Crowley’s wrists, clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping him from fal–no. As if he were the only thing to anchor him from losing himself completely. 

“ _ C-Cr…” _

“Shh...I know you’re hurting, sweetheart, I know. But I need you to do something for me, and it's going to...hurt. But it's important, I need to know, need to  _ see _ , my brave,  _ beautiful _ love. Can you show me your wings? Can you do that for me?” He kept his voice soft and gentle, knowing that that was what Aziraphale needed– it was what  _ he _ had needed and was cruelly denied millenia ago. He knew bringing out his wings would be painful in this state, freshly singed and tender skinned, but Crowley had to know,had to be  _ sure.  _ He slowly removed his hands from his face.  _ “ _ Please...just for a minute.”

Aziraphale swallowed and closed his eyes, focusing on pulling his wings out from their celestial plane. As they began to materialize, Aziraphale let out a  _ wail _ , knees buckling as the pain shot through his body. Crowley quickly moved to grasp him by the arms, preventing him from crumpling to the floor.

“Alright, darling, alright, shhh...you’re alright. Deep breaths.” 

Crowley lifted his eyes, taking in the newly materialized wings and inhaling sharply when he saw that they were no longer the snow white color he had always known. Aziraphale’s wings were now a light grey, peppered generously with speckles of black and white all along his feathers. 

_Oh, please,_ **_no_**_…_

Aziraphale had gone rigid, unsettled by Crowley’s reaction, and slowly began to turn his head to look back at his wings until Crowley lifted a hand to the angel's cheek to push his gaze back to himself, hand shifting to the back of Aziraphale's head to press their foreheads together, icy blue meeting serpentine yellow.

“Don’t look. Just look at me, only me. I'm here darling, everything is alright.”

Everything was  _ not _ alright.

Aziraphale whimpered, fingers trembling as they twisted themselves into the front of Crowley’s shirt.

"C-Crowley...I  _ Fell.” _

The words had finally been said, words that Crowley had been so afraid of hearing leave the angel's lips. Millenia of holding back, fleeting touches, soft glances, all thrown to the wind upon their newfound freedom. But they were never truly free, were they? Always within Her Kingdom, they must abide by Her rules, and to love a demon? Aziraphale never stood a chance. But what could they do now? Crowley didn't even know how to wrap his head around it all.

“Oh,  _ angel…”  _

Aziraphale let out a choked sob, the familiar nickname digging into fresh wounds. Crowley didn’t hesitate a moment longer before he wrapped the newly Fallen up into his arms and held him tightly against his chest.

“N-Not anymore, I’m afraid.”

“ _ Don’t. _ Don’t say that. This has to be a mistake.” 

Aziraphale laughed, a hollow, near hysterical thing, hiding his face against Crowley’s neck as the demon held him tighter, pressing a firm kiss to the side of his head.

“I’m afraid they don’t make mistakes about things like this, darling…” 

“Maybe...Maybe it’s not real? I mean, are you  _ sure–” _

“I can’t feel Her love anymore Crowley. My back started  _ burning _ and it was like a switch. Ju-Just turned off...Oh,  _ Crowley…” _

Crowley had half a mind to march up to Heaven and give everyone up there exactly what was coming to them, the Almighty Herself included–but he couldn’t dare bring himself to pull away for even a moment. 

“Shh...I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

They stood that way for a long time; Crowley holding Aziraphale while he sobbed out his loss in waves, aching for the one thing he had never truly been without, the hole that Her Love left insurmountable in size. When the sobs finally quieted down for the evening, Crowley slowly withdrew, holding Aziraphale at arm’s length so he could look at his face again, gently brushing away leftover tears that lingered on his cheeks.

“How about we order in tonight? That new sushi place around the corner delivers, I hear?” 

It did not, but with a little demonic suggestion from Crowley, they would blessed well do so.

Aziraphale smiled weakly, the usually bright light behind his eyes at the mention of food now dim as he shook his head.

“I’m not too terribly hungry tonight. I think I'll just go lay down for a little while.”

Crowley took those words like a knife to the heart, swallowing around the lump in his throat with difficulty. Aziraphale not eating? There had never been a moment in history where Aziraphale refused good food, not even on his worst days. 

“O-Of course. Whatever you need.”

Aziraphale withdrew from his hold completely, leaving Crowley’s arms cold and empty. He shuffled his way toward the doorway, hesitating at the threshold before turning to look back toward the demon.

“Would...Would you come with me?” 

“Anything you like, darling. I’ll close everything up down here and be up in a moment. You go make yourself comfortable.”

Aziraphale seemed to accept this answer, giving Crowley a weak smile before continuing toward the bedroom in silence, wings dragging heavily behind him. The demon watched him go, heart aching as he waited for the sound of the bedroom door upstairs to close before finally allowing his anger to boil over.

“How could You let this  _ happen _ to him?” He tilted his face up towards the ceiling, angry tears springing to his eyes and fingers curling into fists at his sides. “ _ How? _ He was the best damn angel You had up there and  _ this _ is how You repay him? Kicking him out and keeping  _ that _ lot up there where he  _ deserves  _ to be? This will  _ destroy _ him! His bond with You was all he had  _ left!” _

There was no answer, because of course there wasn’t; She never answered, and in that moment, it made it all worse. 

“Nothing to say? Of course not. You haven’t said anything in near six- _ thousand _ years. Why would You start now?” Crowley sniffed, dragging a hand over his eyes to chase away the tears that threatened to spill. “I will  _ never _ forgive You for this. Ever.” 

Outside, the setting sky had suddenly become overcast, grey clouds overshadowing the Sun and turning the once nice evening into a gloomy one. The beginning sounds of light rain began to sound through the bookshop as droplets hit the windows and thunder rumbled off in the distance. 

"Crowley?" Aziraphale's voice echoed down from upstairs, small and wary. It hadn't felt like very long for Crowley, but for a newly Fallen angel, every moment of isolation probably felt like a lifetime. 

"I'm coming." Crowley called back, casting one last angry glance at the ceiling. “I’m done with this, Aziraphale  _ needs _ me.” 

He snapped his fingers, locking up the shop and turning out the lights before heading upstairs to join Aziraphale in their bedroom. 

In the quiet evening, rain continued to fall. 

— 

On Tuesday, the slight drizzle plaguing London for two days became a steady rain. 

Aziraphale had for the most part remained in their bed those two days, cocooned in several blankets and surrounded by pillows that Crowley had miracled up–anything to give him  _ some _ type of comfort. He spent the majority of their time together sleeping, head pillowed on Crowley's shoulder with the demon's arm around his waist, one of his black wings draped over him like a protective blanket. 

The bookshop was closed indefinitely; Aziraphale didn't have the strength to force himself out of bed and Crowley couldn't bear to leave his side longer than it took him to run down to the kitchen.

Mugs of cocoa went untouched, plates of food uneaten despite Crowley's best efforts. At first Crowley tried to miracle up some of the former angel's favorite dishes, then resorted to trying takeout–Aziraphale always preferred the flavor of handmade food, always claimed he could taste the love and care woven into each morsel. He even tried cooking some dishes himself, trying to will as much of his love into each ingredient so the angel would be enticed to partake in one of his favorite activities. Yet Aziraphale proved to have very little desire to do anything that he'd previously enjoyed, his ability to sense the love in the cooking stripped from him along with his connection to the Heavenly Host. Regardless, Crowley could wait as long as it took.

"Should I change my name?"

Crowley's hand paused in its ministrations through Aziraphale's curls, the newly Fallen angel's head pillowed in his lap as they lounged together in bed. Aziraphale craved physical, affectionate touch more than anything, scrabbling to fill the hole in his soul where God's Love had once resided. 

"Do you  _ want _ to change your name?"

"No." Aziraphale frowned. "I rather like my name." 

"Then you should keep your name as it is."

"You didn't keep your given angelic name after you Fell. None of the Fallen did."

Crowley sighed, fingers resuming their actions, carding through the curls slow and careful. 

"That wasn't a choice  _ we _ made. It was a choice  _ forced _ upon us, first of all. Second, I didn't care for  _ that _ name  _ anyway _ , so I changed it myself to something I liked more."

Aziraphale's lips quirked up at one corner, shifting his gaze to meet Crowley's eyes. Upon seeing that familiar warmth in Aziraphale's eyes, the demon could barely help the fond and relieved sigh that escaped his throat. 

There he was,  _ finally _ ; His angel. 

"I like your name."

"And I like  _ your _ name." Crowley assured him. "In the future, if you ever want to change it, I'll support you. But don't change it just because you think you have to. You're still  _ you _ , Aziraphale."

The smile faltered, icy blue eyes once again clouded with uncertainty, and just as soon as his angel had come back, he was whisked into his spiral of worry again. 

“Do you really think so?” 

“I’ve known you for six-thousand years, love. I think I know you at  _ least _ a little.” 

“Then you  _ know _ that I’m not me anymore.” Aziraphale shifted, lifting his head from Crowley's lap and sitting up in their bed. His back was to Crowley now, shoulders hunched as he ran his hands over his face. “I-I’m different now, Crowley.” 

“Tell me what’s changed then. How are you different than you were two days ago?” 

Crowley knew Aziraphale had changed since his Fall, but he also knew he really hadn’t. He needed to hear how Aziraphale thought he had changed so he knew where to start. 

“Honestly, darling, just  _ look _ at me. My eyes, my hair, my  _ wings–a _ ll of those things are different.” 

“And? What else?” 

Aziraphale sniffled, shoulders starting to shake as he forced himself to hold back his sobs.

“I-I’m not an  _ angel _ anymore...I can't sense Heaven, I can’t sense Her and where Her Love once surrounded my form, Crowley, it's just  _ gone. _ . I can’t feel  _ love _ and I just feel so–so  _ lost. _ ” 

Crowley sighed, closing the small distance between them, winding an arm snugly around Aziraphale’s waist and draping himself across his back, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the curve of his shoulder. 

“I know, I know…” The hardest part of Falling was the  _ loss,  _ being a part of something, of  _ Paradise _ –only to have it ripped away jagged and forcefully, leaving a deep emptiness that could never be described in its wake. Crowley had gone through it, every demon in Hell had gone through it, and now Aziraphale was as well, but he wouldn’t be doing it alone. Crowley would be sure of it. “I felt that way once, you know. Lost without Her Love.” 

“How do you stand it? How can you bear this endless hole inside of you?” 

“I didn’t for a long time.” Crowley admitted. His love for the Almighty had never really faltered, even through the intense scorn he had for Her after his Fall, even through all of Her transgressions against humanity through history, even as he could do nothing but scream at Her as a newly Fallen angel sobbed in their shared bedroom–he still loved Her. He hated that he still loved Her, in the past even speaking to Her when he was alone, knowing She would never speak back, but still trying, begging,  _ praying  _ that She would explain, tell him that it was a mistake, because a part of him still longed to remember what it felt like to  _ feel  _ Her Love. 

“Then I met an angel on the wall of this old garden who smiled at me and made the hurt a little more tolerable–filled that hole a bit even.”

Crowley smiled weakly against his shoulder blade and Aziraphale sniffled again, a small smile gracing his lips. He remained silent, rubbing his cheek against the demon as he waited for Crowley to continue. 

“I felt  _ love _ again. Something I thought I’d lost forever, that I'd never have again, but there he was.” Crowley pressed another kiss to Aziraphale’s shoulder. “And I still love him. That will never change.”

Aziraphale’s hand came to rest on the arm wrapped around his waist, sliding delicately across the skin, grounding himself with smooth, cool skin, feeling the fine arm hair and mapping the freckles from his memories until finally slipping his fingers in-between Crowley’s, welcomed steadfast by the demon– _ his _ demon at his back.

“Even if the angel is no longer an angel…?” 

“He will always be an angel to me." Crowley whispered in his ear. "Even if his eyes are different, even if his hair is different, even if his  _ wings _ are different, I am going to love him like I always have. He is still the angel I fell in love with–the best thing that has ever happened to me.” 

“Oh,  _ Crowley.”  _

“I love you.” 

Aziraphale huffed out a wet laugh. 

“Tell me again?” 

Crowley grinned, turning his head to kiss the side of Aziraphale’s neck instead.

“I love you.” 

“Again?” 

“I love you.” 

“Once more?”

“As many times as you need to hear it, my darling. I love you.” 

“I love you too." Aziraphale let out a shuddering breath. "I love you so much, Crowley.” 

Even though Crowley had known that–felt it every day of course, he still felt strangely relieved to hear it. Aziraphale hadn’t stopped believing that he  _ could _ love or  _ be _ loved which was a hurdle that he had been prepared for, a hurdle that took him ages to get over himself. 

Aziraphale turned his head to look over his shoulder, offering Crowley a small, but genuinely happy smile. He hadn’t seen a real smile from Aziraphale since his Fall, and Crowley couldn’t help but smile back.

“Can I get you anything, love? Something to eat, maybe?” 

“Mm, not tonight.” Crowley’s smile faltered and he struggled not to let his disappointment show, but Aziraphale continued to smile at him, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the demon's. “But...maybe tomorrow?”

“T-Tomorrow? Yes, tomorrow! Absolutely tomorrow!” 

Aziraphale hummed with amusement at Crowley’s excitement and sank back into the demon’s arms completely, eyes opening again to look out the window as the rain continued to fall. 

“Can you do something for me, darling?”

“Anything, Aziraphale. Just name it.” 

“Do...Do you think you could call me ‘angel’ again? Like you used to?”

Crowley blinked, surprised by the request.

Dealing with the aftermath of his Fall had been like treading on eggshells, and Crowley had forced himself to stop calling Aziraphale ‘angel’ in fear that it would only trigger his grief again, instead throwing in any affectionate nickname he could think of that wasn’t utterly ridiculous.

“A-Are you sure?” 

“I rather miss it, I think. Being your angel.”

Crowley snorted, kissing the side of his head and squeezing him in a tight embrace. 

“You never stopped being my angel, angel.” 

Aziraphale sighed, sounding completely content for the first time in days. 

“Thank you, darling. Thank you.” 

—

By Thursday, lower streets were beginning to flood, the small rivers and creeks rising and spilling into the roads. Local authorities had even begun to block them off to prevent anyone from hydrolocking their cars or accidentally getting trapped in the rising waters. 

The wail of the siren from a passing rescue vehicle broke the silence of the pair currently snuggling in the loft above the bookshop, Crowley absentmindedly stroking Aziraphale's curls as he scrolled through his phone.

“I think I want to get out of bed today.”

Crowley stilled his hand in Aziraphale's hair, eyebrows raising as a small smile formed on his face at the prospect. 

“Y-Yeah? You think so?” 

“I do–think it's about time, too. I rather miss my shop, my books..." He let out a huff, shaking his head fondly. "Goodness, I even miss chasing out those pesky, stubborn customers. I think I’m ready to try and face the world again.” 

It had taken four days, four long,  _ long _ days, but Aziraphale had finally decided that he was ready to leave their nest and try living life again, much to Crowley’s joy. Watching Aziraphale wander about his shop, fingers lingering on books as he passed them was so comforting; it made it seem as though the past four days were nothing but a terrible nightmare.

Dust had collected on surfaces and the air was thick with humidity, the constant miracles Aziraphale used to keep the shop in top shape having been neglected for the last few days. Aziraphale made his way to the front of the shop, peering out the window as the rain dripped steadily onto the streets outside and observing the storm.

The window creaked with the force of the wind from outside, letting in a draft that had the former angel wrapping his arms around himself to shield himself from the sudden onslaught of cold. 

"This won't do…" Aziraphale huffed, annoyed as he lifted his hand into the air with the intent of performing a miracle to set his shop right again, but pausing when he realized he didn't have the familiar power of Heaven to draw from any longer.

"Oh…" The shift was instant; Aziraphale, who had been cheerful moments before had started to slip, his voice now thick with tears. "I-I don't…"

"Don't worry about it, darling, I've got it."

And with a snap of his fingers, Crowley fixed the window–along with the humidity and the dust–before wrapping himself around Aziraphale's back and resting his chin on the other's shoulder as they gazed out the window in silence until his angel's trembling went down. 

"Dreadfully gloomy out there," Aziraphale murmured, voice hoarse. Crowley shifted one of his arms so he could instead take Aziraphale's hand in his own, gently brushing his thumb against his cool skin soothingly. “It’s odd, isn’t it? All this rain?” 

Crowley hummed absentmindedly and they continued to look outside until another shiver from Aziraphale prompted him to move on.

"How about we go and sit down, angel?”

“Oh, of course, dear.”

Crowley unwrapped himself completely, moving one of his hands to the small of his angel's back and Aziraphale smiled up at him, allowing himself to be led from the window to the couch in the back room. He settled onto the cushions, humming gratefully as Crowley draped a blanket across his shoulders, immediately relaxing into the warmth it provided. 

“Thank you, my dear. I’m not used to this awful chill.” 

“Just a side effect of the Fall. It’ll pass with time.”

"Does it? You always seem so chilled to the bone." Aziraphale furrowed his brow, locking eyes with Crowley. "I thought it was a normal part of being, well, you know…"

Crowley smiled sadly at him, sitting beside him on the edge of the couch. "I suppose it never truly goes away, but it does fade. Suppose I just got the short end of the stick." He gave half-hearted snort at Aziraphale's confused look. "Serpent of Eden, remember? Cold blooded and all that."

"Ah, of course. Do you think…" His angel trailed off, eyes looking down at his hands as he fidgeted with them before looking up again. "Do you think I’ll have an animal form now? Like you do?" 

Crowley considered the question for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly? I’m not sure. Back when I Fell–when we all Fell–we crawled out of the sulphur, had all of these physical traits for our animal counterparts.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You didn’t Fall like I did, angel. No one has Fallen since before Creation either, so I just couldn’t say. I’m sorry.”

"I see. Well, maybe I don't have one then." Aziraphale still looked thoughtful, hands tapping his knees. "Or maybe I'll find out later? I know it may seem strange to say but having an animal form seems a bit exciting. Rather fun to think about. "

Crowley chuckled at that, grateful for the pleasant change of his angel's mood at the topic. Aziraphale had begun to fall back into normalcy, embracing his Fallen status easier as time passed. Aziraphale was so  _ strong _ , far stronger than Crowley had ever been after his Fall. 

"How about you think on it while I run to the kitchen? I’ll be right back.”

Crowley disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, gathering the mug with the cocoa he’d prepared as well as a small plate of crackers and returned to the back room. Aziraphale was right where he had left him, eyes drawn back to the windows and eyebrows knitted together thoughtfully. 

“Here, angel. This will warm you up.” 

Aziraphale turned his gaze from the window, his eyes falling on the mug in Crowley’s hand, a smile forming on his lips. He reached out to take it, fingers curling around the ceramic, and he gave a content sigh, warmth spreading through his hands.

“Oh, thank you, darling. You take such good care of me.” 

“You deserve to be taken care of.” Crowley settled down on the couch beside him, watching him closely as the angel blew the steam from the top of the mug and took a cautious sip. “You were looking at the rain rather intensely. Something wrong?” 

“It’s been raining for almost four whole days. Isn’t that unusual?” 

“Sometimes that’s just the weather, angel. Not that strange for London, really.” Crowley offered the plate of crackers and Aziraphale took one, nibbling it thoughtfully. “Who knows, maybe those weather angels thought it called for four straight days of rain.” 

“For no reason? I don’t believe it.” Aziraphale nudged Crowley with his arm. “Check that application on your phone and see what that human is saying about the weather.” 

Crowley snorted, pulling out his phone to do as he was told and tapping the button with the sun icon on it. 

“The weatherman, angel. He’s called the weatherman.” 

“Oh, whatever.” Aziraphale grumbled, taking another bite from his cracker before leaning over to look at Crowley’s screen. “What does it say?” 

“It says...huh. We have a flood warning.” 

“A  _ what _ ?” 

“Not  _ that _ kind of flood, angel. We’re just getting an unusually high amount of rain and the lower streets are starting to flood.” 

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose before getting to his feet to make his way to the window, watching the rain again. 

“Oh, dear.”

“Probably nothing to worry about.” Crowley reassured him, tapping on a news banner just under the weather forecast, frowning thoughtfully. “Let’s see what they’ve got to say.” 

_ “If you’re just tuning in, let’s recap what exactly we’re looking at here.”  _ The weatherman on the app narrated, gesturing to the screen behind him.  _ “Now, we’re looking at London as a focal point because–as we discovered earlier this week–this rain mass is  _ ** _only_ ** _ affecting the London area. Despite heavy winds, this storm cloud is completely stationary, having appeared suddenly and appears to show no movement while gaining strength the longer it lingers. We strongly suggest that you avoid side streets and–” _

Crowley closed the app with a swipe of his finger and glanced over at Aziraphale, still frozen at the window. 

“Angel, it’s just a storm.” 

“You heard just as well as I did. It’s nothing they can explain, which means something is wrong.”

Crowley got to his feet with a groan, making his way over to join Aziraphale in watching the rain. It seemed like regular rain to him, but Aziraphale seemed fixated on it, almost like he could sense something he couldn’t. 

“It’s not your responsibility to fix things like this anymore, angel. That’s up to  _ them _ .” 

Aziraphale hummed, sipping from his mug once again before sighing. 

“I suppose going out for dinner will just have to wait.” 

Crowley loosely wrapped an arm around Aziraphale's waist, resting his head on his shoulder as the rain continued to fall.

“The moment it’s over, we’ll go anywhere you want to go, I promise. For now, we just need to let Heaven sort whatever this is out.”

–

By Saturday, the meteorologists were warning of a great storm, one that would likely do a significant amount of damage to the city–along with the people in it–if proper precautions weren’t taken. Various roads were closed all over the city, along with most businesses due to the weather, no one wanting to risk their lives in the onslaught of rain unless absolutely necessary.

_ “It’s like the end of the world out there, ladies and gentlemen! Stay indoors, get to higher ground immediately if you see rising waters, and keep your loved ones close. We’ll be here offering coverage and emergency contact information as long as we–!” _

Aziraphale glanced warily at the radio as it faded out to static. He and Crowley both had used many a miracle to ensure the rising flood waters wouldn’t breach the shop under the doors as well as keeping any rain from coming through the ceiling or windows. Even so, he was concerned it wouldn’t be enough. He stood at the window, a habit he had picked up over the last two days, looking out into the street and worrying his bottom lip as he watched the rain continue to pour down. 

“Oh dear, this is terrible.” 

Crowley had run back to his flat to check on things earlier that morning, mostly to ensure that the place was even still standing at this point. While Aziraphale had let him go, he was starting to get nervous the longer they were seperated, pacing the shop and pausing to gaze out the window. It was a relief when he finally saw the Bentley pull up, a very familiar demon hurrying himself into the shop, getting soaked to the bone in the few seconds it took to make it through the front door.

“Oh Crowley, you’re soaked!”

“It’s a bloody nightmare out there.” Crowley announced, shaking out his wet hair with a grumble. “Roads closed all over the city. Had to miracle my way around just to get back.” 

“The reporter on the radio said it was the 'end of the world'. I’m so glad you’re alright.” Aziraphale miracled up a towel, covering Crowley’s head with it before starting to dry the excess water from his hair. “I’ve miracled up some more protections as best as I could, but I’m worried all our efforts won’t hold.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, angel. I’m not worried, and you're not alone.” Crowley reassured him with a smile when he moved the towel from his head, but Aziraphale wasn’t smiling back;he actually looked a bit concerned. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“You feel so... _ sad _ , my dear.”

Crowley looked at him quizzically. “I’m not...sad? Just irritated that I'm soaking wet and freezing my ass off.” Crowley snapped his fingers to miracle himself dry, running a hand through his hair to restore it to its normal state. “That’s better.” 

Aziraphale frowned, reaching out to touch Crowley’s arm curiously. “That’s...strange.That overwhelming sadness just...disappeared.” 

“Can’t lose what you’ve never had, angel. I can promise you that I wasn’t sad.” 

Aziraphale huffed, frustrated as he tried to put the pieces together. 

Crowley had been soaked with rain and his aura felt  _ sad _ , but once dry, that sadness vanished?

“Yes, but  _ someone _ is. Couldn’t you feel that?”

“Angel, I don’t–” Aziraphale moved past Crowley to the front door of the bookshop, yanking it open and running outside into the downpour, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. “Ang–!”

The rain was cold, the wind was harsh, the thunder was loud, but above all, the feeling of sadness–no,  _ grief– _ was the most overwhelming thing of all. It was  _ everywhere _ , surrounding him, and the longer Aziraphale whipped his head back and forth in search of whoever was feeling this sadness, the more it became clear that there  _ wasn’t _ one.

The source of grief was the  _ rain. _

“Aziraphale! What the  _ Heaven _ are you doing?” Crowley shouted over the storm, having rushed out into the rain after him. He grabbed his arm and pulled, dragging the other back inside to the bookshop and slamming the door behind them. “Have you lost your  _ mind _ ?"

Aziraphale was soaked and shivering from the cold, but his eyes were staring wide at the water that had pooled in his palm. 

Crowley grumbled at the lack of response, miracling up two towels, draping one over Aziraphale's head in a similar fashion to how he had done to him before. "Over here talking about sensing sadness and then you run frantically out into the worst storm London has ever seen...What am I going to do with you?"

"It's not...it's not  _ rain _ …"

"What do you mean it's ‘not rain'? What else would it–"

"Tears." Aziraphale said suddenly, eyes wide. "The grief, the sadness, all of what I sense is in the  _ raindrops _ , Crowley, these are someone's  _ tears." _

"Someone's tears." Crowley repeated slowly, shaking his head. It was an utterly ridiculous notion. "Alright, alright. Finish drying off and tell me what you're thinking."

Aziraphale snapped his fingers, banishing the water from his body before returning to the window, wringing his hands together worryingly. 

"The rain started the day I Fell, remember? It had been such a lovely day, sun shining, no clouds and then what? Suddenly it's raining and now there's a storm of the century?" 

Crowley exhaled slowly, joining Aziraphale at the window after miracling himself dry, arms crossed over his chest.

"It  _ is _ a weird coincidence."

"You...You don't think it could be…" Aziraphale chewed at his lip again. "...Her?"

Crowley looked at him incredulously. "What? The Almighty? That's a little far-fetched, don't you think?" 

"How else would you explain it, then? If She's in such a state over me, then...then this is  _ my _ fault."

" **No** ." Crowley turned Aziraphale to face him instead of the window, reaching out and unwinding his twisting hands to hold them between his own. " _ You _ didn't choose this.  _ They _ did. This is between Her and...and  _ them.  _ Angel, this is  _ not _ your fault, don't ever let yourself think that. _ " _

Aziraphale gave him a sad smile, shifting their hands to interlock their fingers.

"Still, there must be  _ somethin _ g I can do, Crowley." Aziraphale squeezed his hands. "If I could just...talk to Her, maybe I could stop this storm."

"And how are you going to do that? She hasn't talked to anyone in...a  _ really _ long time, angel. 'Specially doubt she'd wanna talk to...our lot." 

He couldn't help but wince at that, the pain of being cast out still a fresh, raw wound in his heart.

"I know that. It wouldn't...hurt to try though, would it? A simple prayer?"

Crowley opened his mouth to tell him that demons didn't pray, especially not to the Almighty, but one look at Aziraphale's face told him that it was a battle he wouldn't win, and so, he simply bent to press a kiss to the other's hands. 

"Worth a try, I guess."

–

"What if I can't reach Her?"

"Then you won't be any different than anyone else in the bloody world."

"Oh honestly, Crowley." Aziraphale sat himself down on the couch and patted the cushion beside him. "You're pacing. Come sit with me." 

Crowley ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly and sighed, making his way to sit down beside him. 

"Are you _ sure _ you want to do this?" 

"Yes. I am absolutely sure. I think She and I are quite overdue for this conversation anyway." Aziraphale smiled at him, reaching over to rest his hand on Crowley's knee reassuringly. 

"I'll be right here the whole time, angel, if you need me."

"Thank you, darling. I'm sure it'll be just fine."

"Famous last words."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and huffed, then shifted to pray–folding his hands, straightening his shoulders and closing his eyes. He hadn’t spoken to the Almighty in such a long time, and he wasn’t really sure what to say. He supposed it didn’t have to be a typical prayer; if anything, being a demon now meant he could just say what was on his mind without being concerned with offending Her. 

“Ah...Hello. T-This is the, ah, Princi–Erm...the  _ former _ Principality Aziraphale. I, well, I rather need to have a word with You.” 

There was no answer, not that he had expected one. In all of the millenia that he had prayed to the Almighty for guidance, comfort,  _ answers– _ he'd received none. So why would today be any different?

"Yes, well, I suppose You know all about how I've fallen out of Heaven's good Graces by now. I admit it was…" He took a deep, shuddering breath. "... _ hard _ to accept for the first few days." Aziraphale shook his head minutely, continuing on. "Being unable to feel Your Love for the first time in my entire existence was...well, it was beyond dreadful."

There was a crash of thunder outside and Aziraphale paused, listening as the rain beat heavily against the building for a moment. 

"I've never fit into the angelic 'mold' that was always expected of me, never living up to the whole 'perfect angel' bit that Gabriel and Michael stressed for us all. I've  _ tried _ to change myself to meet their standards, gone against what I believed was the right thing for their approval–what I thought was  _ Your _ approval–but I can see now that none of it mattered." 

He took a deep breath, flexing his fingers in his lap where they were tightly clasped. 

"I wasted six- _ thousand _ years of my existence, always looking over my shoulder, blindly following orders, and pushing away one of the few beings that have always been there for me–despite how it nearly  _ killed  _ me to do so."

Crowley inhaled sharply beside him, but Aziraphale pressed on, determined. He finally had the freedom to speak his mind without consequence and he refused to stop now. 

"And now...I don't have to do that anymore. It may have been difficult to accept at first, but I've had the time to think about everything and, well, I'm...I'm  _ okay." _

Losing his connection to God and Her all-encompassing Love had been the roughest part of his Fall. Somehow, even with the sudden emptiness, Aziraphale found that he really  _ was _ dealing with the whole situation rather well, and it was all due to Crowley.

Crowley, who hadn't left his side for a moment since that fateful Sunday, who encouraged him to eat, to partake in the small, earthly pleasures that made him feel so at peace. Crowley, who reassured him every single day that he was loved, and that he  _ deserved _ to be loved, Fallen or not. Crowley, who had, as always, been right there when he needed him the most. 

"I know You're grieving. I may not be able to feel your Love anymore, but I can feel Your grief in the rain. That's what this storm is, isn't it? You're in mourning, for me?" Still there was no answer, but Aziraphale felt it to be true. "You don't have to be. I really am alright. I'm safe, I'm loved, and I'm‐" A wet chuckle escaped his lips. "I'm  _ free." _

Aziraphale's lip trembled, a familiar burning sensation forming behind closed eyelids. So  _ many  _ tears had been shed in the past week than in his entire existence, and he wondered just how many tears the Almighty had spilled for him in comparison. 

"My love for You will never change, but the love Crowley and I share is strong, a constant, steady thing. Something I've never had to question, and something I'm certain will get me through the hardships of the future."

The tears slipped through his lashes, staining his cheeks. A hand found its way to his shoulder, giving a supportive, reassuring squeeze. 

"You needn't worry, Almighty. I'm going to be just fine, I promise." 

With that, Aziraphale unclasped his hands and opened his eyes, still welled with tears. Crowley's hand slipped around to his other shoulder, tugging him to lean against his side. 

"It was a nice prayer, angel."

Aziraphale choked out a laugh that was a borderline sob, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand until Crowley offered him a handkerchief to dry his face.

"I just thought She needed to  _ know _ . She must have been dreadfully upset if this storm was anything to judge by." He tilted his head until it came to rest on Crowley's shoulder. "It was a conversation that was long overdue."

The pounding rain and howling wind began to taper off outside, shifting from the downpour it had been stuck at for days to a light rain in minutes.

"Looks like it did the trick. Rain is starting to slow." Crowley hummed, lips brushing against Aziraphale's curls affectionately. "How do  _ you _ feel?"

"I feel...better." He took a deep, calming breath and smiled softly. "So much better."

"Good. I think if we give it a few more days, the flooding should go down and we can go outside again." Crowley mused. "What do you think? Feel up to a spot of lunch?" 

Aziraphale closed his eyes, smile growing wider as he listened to the rain calm, leaving behind only the faint sound of water rushing down tear stained streets into the flooded earth. 

Beautiful beginnings oft come from painful endings, after all.

"I think lunch would be wonderful."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments?  
Oh, I love comments.  
Tell me what you thought!
> 
> Or come find me on [Tumblr!](https://mollymauk-teakwood.tumblr.com/)


End file.
